The Tikkanen Incident

Living overseas in South Korea and in Russia would seem like two completely different experiences, and until now they have been different, until two of my students took me to a Korean restaurant last week.

Meeting these two students is in itself a strange coincidence. They are a young man and woman, and they both study Korean language at University. The young man spent some time studying Korean martal arts at a Buddhist temple in Incheon and Seoul last summer and the woman is going there in the spring. They have an intimate knowledge of Korea and we have been swapping stories and comparing life there with life in Moscow.

When we walked into the Korean restaurant, about four blocks away from the last metro stop on the bottom of the red line, it was like I had been transported back to another period in my life. The restaurant was complete with in-table Korean barbeques, menus in Korean, Russian and English (and the awesomely hilarious Korean attempts at English, like the "Fried Friend Dumpling") and Korean, or possibly Chinese, staff who barely spoke Russian or English. We ordered delicious dwae-ji kalbi and it came with generous servings of kimchi, lettuce, pickled carrot slices and big chunks of fresh garlic to cook with the meat. There was also that delicious orange-brown chunky sauce that goes on the meat.

As I sat there eating kimchi and kalbi with metal chopsticks, I felt transported back to Korea, and I began replaying adventures and incidents I had enjoyed there in my head. For some reason, perhaps because I am in Russia, which is a hockey country, and perhaps because Moscow is only a 10-hour train ride from Finland, my mind settled on one particular incident: the Tikkanen Incident.

There's a bar in the Itaewon district of Seoul owned by two Canadian brothers. It's called the "Rocky Mountain Pub" and is an homage to Canadiana, complete with license plates and 24-hour hockey replays. It is a popular spot as it serves up delicious western food with proper western customer service, and is one of the few places in Korea where one can buy Molson Canadian on tap. Needless to say that my colleagues and I spent a fair amount of time there.

On one occasion a group of us, including my ex, her sister, our friend Mr. Korea, a friend named Mr. San Diego and a couple of other English teachers, were sitting at the most comfortable piece of real estate in the joint, a corner table sunk low in the ground with windows to our backs and big blue cushions. The waiter approached us and asked us to move to a different table, as there was a VIP coming and he had requested that particular table.

We obliged, not without grumbling, and relocated. Then the VIP walked in. He was a large man in his late 50s and he had with him two healthy-looking young blonde men who stood over six feet tall. I didn't recognize him right away, but Mr. Korea did. "It's fucking Esa Tikkanen!" he declared.
"What?!?" everybody answered.

Esa Tikkanen is a retired NHL hockey player from Finland. He played for the Edmonton Oilers alongside Wayne Gretzky and later the New York Rangers. He was on two Stanley Cup championship winning teams and was known as an enforcer (a goon in layman's terms) who led the league in penalty minutes during the 1980s. Indeed, his record for spending the most time in the penalty box has yet to be broken. And here he was in the Rocky Mountain Pub in friggin' Seoul, South Korea.

"Tikkanen!" Mr. Korea shouted out to him as he and his entourage sat at our recently-vacated table. "Hey!"
Tikkanen looked over and smiled and shouted back. "Hello!"
Mr. Korea, as excited as I've ever seen him, grabbed the waiter by the arm. "Get that table a round of tequila shots and a pitcher of beer, on me." The waiter, one of the Canadian owners, shook his head. "It's not a good idea to get Tikkanen drunk." he warned us.
"It's fine! Trust me!"
"I'm really trying to warn you, DO NOT GET ESA TIKKANEN DRUNK!"
"Just do it, okay?" Mr. Korea pleaded. With a sigh the waiter/owner shrugged like Pontas Pilate, as if to say "Okay, but it's your crucifixion, not mine." and he went to the bar.

When Tikkanen and his two companions received their drinks they seemed delighted. "Where are you from?" Esa called out to Mr. Korea. "Canada!" Mr. Korea answered. "Well, don't just sit there, come over here!" Tikkanen called back.

We changed tables, the girls not as enthusiastically as the guys, and were soon seated at our own table, this time with a washed-up, although still impressive, sports celebrity. We cheered with our tequila shots, poured a round of beer and then began talking.

Tikkanen had been contracted to coach South Korea's first ever hockey team in the newly-formed Asian League Hockey, which consisted, at the time, of one team from South Korea, four from Japan, six from China, and two from Russia (who creamed the Asians in every game and won the championships every year). Tikkanen's companions were Finnish hockey players who played in the Russian KHL and on Finland's national team during world championship and winter olympics events. They were all there to get Korea's hockey team up and running.

The conversation was lively and interesting, and Tikkanen, despite his bad-ass reputation and massive bulk which even at his age still rippled with barely-concealed muscle, was a charming and funny man. He loved Canada, he told us, and enjoyed his time in Edmonton and Toronto much more than in New York where, he told us, the beer wasn't as good. When he had heard there was a Canadian bar in town, he had gone there immediately and since become a regular.

More tequila shots followed, and more pitchers of beer. People became rowdier and livelier.

If anyone reading this has ever drank with English teachers living overseas, then you know that we are a fairly retarded bunch when we drink. Only overseas do we feel at liberty to do things we would never dream of doing back home. In this case, there was a small metal pail on the table filled with peanuts. Like at home, the concept is to munch on them and throw the shells on the floor, but somehow us ESL teachers in Korea had taken to whipping the peanuts, shells and all, at each other's heads when we were drunk (I won't bother explaining Mortal Combat Frisbee). Naturally this happened.

Tikkanen, red in the face and talking loudly and more aggressively after four pitchers of beer and three rounds of tequila, started to say "Hey, stop that." every time a peanut whizzed close to him. It didn't deter us degenerate teachers, however, and we continued to throw peanuts at each other while we chatted. In hindsight, Tikkanen had become silent, but nobody noticed it at the time.

Then my ex, a small blonde girl of about 100 lbs, whipped a badly-aimed peanut at Mr. Korea but nailed Esa Tikkanen square in the forehead by mistake, and Tikkanen snapped.

"DO YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY???!!!??" he screamed at my ex. Veins were bulging on his massive and balding forehead. "IS THAT FUCKING FUNNY??!!??" My ex sat calmly and stared at him, saying nothing.

Tikkanen, red in the face and filled with rage, stood up so he was towering over her at the other side of the table. "YOU WANT TO FUCKING HIT ME IN THE EYE?" he screamed. The whole bar had gone silent. The waiter looked at us as if to say "I told you so". Tikkanen seemed to be getting angrier by the moment. "YOU CAN FUCKING KILL SOMEONE WITH ONE OF THESE! WELL? YOU WANT TO FUCKING KILL ME???" he screamed at the small girl, who sat and stared at him defiantly, no look of fear on her face.

Mr. Korea, trying to restore the table to the former joviality we had been enjoying, stood up and patted Tikkanen on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Okay, let's just all stop throwing peanuts and calm down." He picked up Tikkanen's beer. "Here, I'll buy you another one."

Tikkanen turned on Mr. Korea, his massive body shaking in fury, looking for all the world like an angry bull. "SIT THE FUCK DOWN!" he hollered at Mr. Korea. "Okay!" Mr. Korea responded, and quickly sat down again. Tikkanen turned back to my ex. "YOU THINK THAT'S FUCKING FUNNY?" He shouted again, apparently the only phrase he knows when he gets drunk. She just calmly stared at him, saying nothing.

One of the young Finnish players grabbed Tikkanen by the arm and said something in Finnish to him (probably "Let's go") and Tikkanen, still fuming, allowed himself to be dragged away from our table. "FUCKING STUPID BITCH! IT'S NOT FUNNY!" he continued to holler. The other Finn joined them and they put their jackets on left the bar, Tikkanen still hollering like a madman. The bartender came over to our table. "More beer?" he asked, and we all started to laugh.

People from other tables came up to us. "Was that Esa Tikkanen? What did you say to him?" We had become minor celebrities ourselves, and I personally found it funny that my girlfriend was almost in a fist-fight with the feared Esa Tikkanen.

Naturally the next weekend we all flocked to the Suwon hockey stadium to see Esa lead team Korea in a game against Japan. The Tikkanen influence on Korea's team was obvious, as Korean players continued to smash the Japanese players into the boards, and despite having players spend nearly half the game in the penalty box, they came out on top. It helped that Tikkanen and the two Finns would occasionally hop onto the ice themselves during a line change, pass the pack through the legs of the opposing players and fire it into the Japanese net while the goalie dove for cover.

We went to a dozen more games, and in true hockey fashion, heckled the players to no end. "Tiiiikaaanen! Tiiiikaaaanen!" We would chant, to which Tikkanen, probably with no idea that we were the same people he had wanted to kill, would bow to us with a big goofy grin on his face, no doubt reliving his glory days when he played, and fought, alongside Wayne Gretzky in the NHL.

Tikkanen leads Team Korea to a bone-crushing victory

7-11 Anonymous

In Korea, we used to drink at 7-11s. I used to love drinking outside a 7-11. Every 7-11 would put a few plastic tables with chairs in its parking lot during the summer and groups of us expat English teachers would sit around and play drinking games and get drunk. If we ran out of beer then there was no problem; one of us would go into the 7-11 and buy another 2 litre plastic bottle of beer. If we got hungry then again there was no problem. Ramyun noodles! Run out of smokes? No worries, the door to the 7-11 is five feet away!

7-11 drinking brings back fond memories of a previous expat experience. Unfortunately they don't have 7-11s in Russia, nor are there convenience stores to drink at. They do sell beer in 2 litre plastic jugs at the store, and, like in Korea, one can buy beer at any hour of the day or night, but that's not the point. There's something to be said about sitting around a plastic table in a parking lot out front of a 7-11 and getting drunk with friends.

In Russia, we sit around kitchen tables and get drunk. Which brings me to the purpose of this blog entry; drinking. The casual reader of my blog may have noticed by this point that we drink a lot here. That's to be expected. We are English teachers. I "earned my stripes" in Korea as an expat EFL teacher and life for the lowly teacher in Russia is no different. I have heard from a nice young woman who reads this blog that her teaching experience in Turkey was the same.

Alcohol is the opiate of the EFL teaching masses. I'm not an alcoholic. I don't drink alone but I don't see a point in getting together with friends without alcohol, and judging by the copious amounts of booze my friends drink I can assume that they feel the same.

We don't actually spend all day sitting around drinking and teaching the Present Perfect to students. I actually only drink three or four nights a week; the rest of the time is spent watching TV shows from home on my laptop.

For instance, on Sunday I didn't drink (the vicious hangover from Saturday prevented that, which McDonald's cured, a trick I learned in Korea). Instead, Katerina came over and spent the night watching pirated movies with me. On Monday I didn't drink. After work I came home and watched The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Dogfights and The Rick Mercer Report on my computer. On Tuesday I didn't drink. I downloaded and watched Inglorious Basterds. On Wednesday I went to visit Katerina in Shyolkova, and we did, in fact, drink. Rum and coke, to be exact. On Thursday I drank. Wonderpants, Ms. Australia and Quagmire came over to my place and Mr. Irish made a delicious Irish stew and we drank a few beers. Tonight I drank. Mr. Irish, Quagmire and I went to a pizza restaurant (Espronto) and had a few pints and pizzas. Tomorrow I'll be drinking because it's Gem's birthday party and EVERYBODY is taking the hour-long metro trip to the south of Moscow. I'll probably get pretty shit-faced. On Sunday I'll have McDonald's and repeat the week.

So there you have it. I drink four nights a week, with only one of them being a brain-cell-killing blow-out. I'm not an alcoholic, at least, I'm not an alcoholic by EFL teacher standards. To be labelled an alcoholic by expat EFL teachers takes talent.

Like Pigs and Cats...

Russia and Korea are like night and day, or chalk and honey, or whatever.

I had a hard time taking Korea seriously. It seemed like a made-up Disneyland country that was desperately trying to get people to notice it, and there seemed to be little heritage. My director once took me out for lunch. "I take you to traditional Korean sandwich restaurant." I was curious, because traditionally Koreans didn't have sandwiches, or bread for that matter. He took me to a Subway. I tried the traditional Korean meatball sub. The traditional Korean map of the New York City subway system was on the wallpaper.

Every temple I went to in Korea was touted as being "ancient...after it was rebuilt ten years ago..."

I couldn't even take the authorities in Korea seriously because the police wore a cartoon pig on their shoulder badges. In the early '90s the Korean government wanted to improve the reputation of their police force, and heard a lot of people in American movies referring to police as "pigs", so they thought that this was a good thing and chose a happy smiling Porky-the-Pig figure for the symbol of the national police force. If you have been to Korea you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, take my word for it; they actually have a cartoon pig as their symbol of law enforcement.

Everything in Korea seemed cartoony and surreal (although the food was fucking fantistic!).

Russia, on the other hand, is very real. Russian culture is alive and well. The historic buildings that were put up in the medieval ages are still standing. Russian, Georgian, Kazak, Ukrainian and Scandinavian restaurants are everywhere and there are only two Subway Sandwiches in Russia; one at Byeloruskaya Station in Moscow and one on Nevskiy Prospekt in Saint Petersburg.

Russian police look like their Soviet ancestors in the movies, but drunker and more corrupt. Their big hats and leather jackets and skull-smashing truncheons dangling from their belts, coupled with their greedy eyes looking for an excuse to take your money, make them a menacing sight. They have built a reputation for themselves, and they travel in groups of five or more. They don't fuck around, and they are best avoided.

Russians love their cats. I have seen cat statues in the Hermitage, and toy cats at the stores, and cat videos on youtube, and cat food at the grocery stores and very few street cats.

This love of cats is nice to see, and is very different from Korea where cats were considered lower than rodents. Wild cats ran everywhere and my Korean director (to whom I gave the English name "Scott" for some unknown reason) used to go out of his way to kick them if he saw one on the street.

Koreans hated cats. When asked about the myth of Chinese eating cats, Scott once told me, in his broken English "I would rather eat monkey feces than eat a cat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a delicious dog to eat." He didn't actually say that, but I always suspected he was thinking it...

Russians, on the other hand, love their cats and their dogs. There were a lot of barking dogs in fenced-off backyards as Wonderpants and I trekked through Borodino, and the Gucci Princesses of Moscow walk around with little purse-sized dogs...in their purses. None of these dogs, from what I've been able to tell, are considered a meal (or a snack).

Russians adore cats. Russians don't eat dogs. Russians have a real culture going for them. This isn't Korea. Now, if only they would stop driving like Koreans...

Absolutely Nothing To Report

Nothing interesting has happened this past week. I bought a pair of jeans and a shirt from a strange little market, but that's not very interesting. I've been teaching the Present Perfect Simple vs. the Past Simple (I have eaten vs I ate) but that's not interesting at all. Even when living overseas the odd week or two can be mundane.

Despite being in Moscow I have absolutely nothing to write about, so I'll post some funny videos, instead!

I first saw those videos in 2003 in Korea. My friend, Mr. Halifax (who married a Korean girl and is now a successful investment manager in Toronto, but I knew him when he was a lowly English teacher...) introduced them to me and I find it very strange that friends of mine here Russia showed me the exact same videos!

That video was shown to me by my ex's friend, Ms. Margarita (who is the only friend of my ex that I'm still friends with, because not only is she one of the most interesting people I've ever met, she also kinda became my friend).

Remembrance Day

This is a striking photo. I make it my desktop wallpaper every Remembrance Day (Nov. 11th).

The British Columbia Rifle's Regiment embarking for Europe, 1940.

A Canadian war cemetery in France.

Some other photos of Canada at war are below.

Canadian troops at Paschendale, 1917

Canadian dead at Dieppe, 1942

Canadian corvette hunting German U-Boats in the Atlantic.

A Canadian soldier following a battle in Korea, 1952

Canadian peacekeeper in Rwanda, 1993

Another Canadian is sent home from Afghanistan, 2009

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Friday English

Today is Friday.

Friday's are my busiest day of the week. From 3 pm until 9:30 pm I have back-to-back classes and the strain of teaching for nearly 7 hours straight is exhausting! My Fridays consist of a real mix of students. From a one-on-one class with an advanced 11-year-old who says things like "My father considers Boston the cultural heart of America, but I much prefer Buffalo!", to a class with 10 intermediate-level 16-18 year old girls who say things like "Kiss my ass" and "Oh ya? Make me practise grammar", to two classes of 10-year old boys who don't say anything in English, to a class of tired adults who have just got off work and elected to spend 2 hours learning English in the evening.

By 10 pm on Friday evenings I am not only mentally drained but I also feel like a bad teacher! By the time I start the adult class I've pretty much run out of momentum. Teaching English is not only about getting vocabulary, pronunciation and grammar into the students head, it's also about entertaining. An EFL teacher is an entertainer through-and-through and it takes a lot of energy to keep so many different groups of people entertained and engaged for so long. When Friday evening rolls around I just want to give out some copies of grammar exercises and sit back.

Of course, that is not why they pay good money to learn from a native speaker. So I must struggle to keep everyone happy and entertained and, most importantly, feeling as if though they are getting their money's worth.

Thankfully Russians have an easier time learning English than Koreans do and they are able to pick up on the language much faster. Perhaps it is because, in comparison to Koreans, Russians are able to learn for themselves rather than rely on rote memorization of stock phrases. They are also a lot more engaging than Koreans, particularly the teenagers and adults, and they are always willing to launch into a conversation (particularly if it involves making fun of their tired teacher).

Lesson planning for a Friday evening takes more than an hour, and very shortly I'm going to have a shower, get dressed, walk the 20-minutes to the school, pull out my little notebook and begin planning. Perhaps today will involve a lot grammar practise!

Slightly Homesick

Perhaps it's the early stages of homesickness. Perhaps it's the language difficulties. Whatever it is, a feeling of being uncomfortable and self-conscious has crept over me the past few days.

I was fully prepared for some homesickness to set in once the shock of travel had worn off, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. In my experience it takes a couple of months to begin and then drags on for several more months. When I first arrived in South Korea in September 2003 I didn't get hit with the first pangs of homesickness until close to Christmas, and it didn't wear off until the following summer.

Of course, Korea is so much more foreign than Russia. The food is vastly different, whereas Russian food is basically the same as it is in the west. The people and the geography and the culture in Korea is very north-east Asian and unlike anything else in the world, whereas those things in Russia are somewhat similar to back home. That's not to say that Russian people and culture are the same, but there are some similarities.

I don't stand out too much in Russia; if I don't open my mouth and I keep a stern look on my face, I can blend in here without much trouble. In Korea, the genetics behind my racial make-up made me stand out no matter where I went! In Russia there is a strong love for individualism while in Korea there was a strong love for being a clone. Also, in Russia, there are lots of trees and parks and European architecture whereas Korea was a land encased in concrete and quickly constructed buildings that all looked alike.

Russia is different than the west in many ways as well. For starters there are the crowds of large macho men in leather jackets who hang out and get pissed in parks, on sidewalks, in dark alleyways, etc all throughout the night. The women here are incredibly beautiful and wear weird combinations of high-heeled boots over tight designer jeans and fur coats. Traffic is near-suicidal here in Russia and one must be vigilant when crossing the street. Russians don't make eye-contact on the streets, and stare off into space with scowls on their face as they walk, seemingly lost in deep thought about how crappy everything is. Russian beef sucks.

Strangely enough it is the partial lack of foreigness that has helped to prematurely bring on the first pangs of homesickness. Having experienced it before I know what to expect and how to deal, but it is not a comfortable process. Right now I'm going through a period of insecurity, a reaction I have to strong emotional shocks. This makes it more difficult for me to venture out on my own, bond closely with other people and also to completely relax and sleep well.

I recognize it as homesickness and not culture shock because for the past week or so I've been thinking of how relaxed and comfortable I would be were I back in Owen Sound or British Columbia, and I've been daydreaming of what my life will be like when I go home. That's a bad cycle to get into and thinking like that will only prolong homesickness.

To defeat homesickness and settle comfortably into the new circumstances one must grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. I must constantly force myself to take trips on my own and navigate the impossible communication problems I deal with on a day-to-day basis. I must force myself to relax when alone and in the company of new friends. I must devote time and energy to learning the language and, finally, I must dream of what my life will look like here in Russia in a month or two, rather than what life back home will look like in a year or two. That's the only way to break the homesick fever.

A lot of alcohol helps, too.

A Brothel In Seoul

Once myself and two other guys got loaded in Iteawon, the US Army district of Seoul. As we wandered to a different watering hole a beautiful Korean woman in tight-fitting dress beckoned us over to her. She was stunning. She was about 5'5" with long, thick black hair and smooth, round legs. The dress hugged her waist and...well, everyone knows what a woman in a dress looks like. She asked if we would like to have a beer at her establishment. We said "Sure!" and went inside. We were too drunk to notice that she had locked the door behind us.

Inside was a dimly-lit bar with two other girls who asked us to buy them "girly drinks". Ya, why not, we said. And get us a beer. The girly-drinks were shots of something fruity and cost 20,000 won a piece (about $20). Then one of the girls hit play on a crappy little ghetto blaster and bad Korean pop music started. All three girls tore off their dresses at the same time! It was almost an Olympic-worthy performance! Then each one climbed on top one of us and started to grind and oscillate. "You can touch wherever you want" the girl we had met outside who was now on my lap said. Then it dawned on me. Shit. We had just wandered into a brothel like drunken idiots. "You want rub? 30. You want blow? 50" She panted into my ear.

"Guys!" I yelled to the other two who were buried underneath breasts. "Let's get the fuck out of here!" One of my friends said "Okay!" While the other said "What? Are you crazy?!!?" Almost like magic one of our cell phones rang and my friend answered it. It was our girlfriends wanting to meet us at a club just down the street! I grabbed my girl by the waist and flung her off me and stood up and made a bee-line for the door, unlocked it and stood in the doorway. My friends, one relunctantly, followed me out.

I'm just not into the "pay-for-sex" scene. It's like buying a cup of water from a guy standing next to a water fountain: why pay for it? Maybe if the hookers were gold-plated, or came with a 20 oz sirloin steak and a nice peppercorn sauce...actually, that DOES sound like a deal. Steak dinner and a blow from a gold-plated hooker for fifty bucks...I'm in the wrong business.

Drinking, Debauchery and Teaching English

ESL teachers are usually a pretty debauched lot. There's always a wet sponge thrown in amongst them, as there is in any group (I've even met a righteous, high-and-mighty stripper), but for the most part ESL teachers are irrisponsible, heavy drinking, sin-filled individuals. They are on permanent vacation.

The ESL expat community in South Korea was no different. In fact, I really honed my drinking skills in South Korea and brought them to dizzying heights. Realizing that the expat life was turning me into a soju-and-beer-(and-rye-and-wine-and-vodka)-filled shell of my former self, I made the decision to return to Canada at the end of my second year, and not continue on to Taiwan as I was originally planning.

Oh, the horror...the horror...actually I still laugh at it all.

The ESL expat community in South Korea is made up of people from every English-speaking country in the world. Americans, Australians, Brits, Canadians, Irish, New Zealanders, Scots...and one South African. The resulting jumble of slightly-different cultures all hanging out and drinking heavily together means that I learned a fantastic array of drinking games, of which one, Titanic, is my favourite.

In the game of Titanic, there is a large pint of beer placed in the center of the table and an empty shot glass is floated in the middle. Everyone, in turn, attempts to poor a bit of vodka or soju or whatever into the shot-glass without sinking it. Whoever sinks it has to chug the whole beer. The more you lose, the worse you play and the more you continue to lose, at least in my experience.

So after a night of playing "Titanic" (and falling off the patio of the bar we were playing at) I had a kindergarten class to teach in the morning. It was a first class and the elementary school had rented an English teacher (me) from my director. I was supposedly really good with kids.

When I showed up at 8 am I was still hammered from the night before, but not in a fun and lovable way. The stairwell was spinning as the Korean principle showed me to my class. Inside were 20 or so 4 year olds staring at me with curious expressions.

I proceeded to do the old "No Speaka English" kindergarten routine of dancing around with them and keeping it active and trying to get them to communicate in words that closely resembled English, but on this day I was sweating profusely and my stomach started to contract and then crawl up my esophagus.

Without warning I knew I had to vomit and wouldn't make it to the washroom. The only thing around was their Korean teacher's garbage pail so I, in front of 20 wide-eyed Korean 4-year-olds, a Korean kindergarten teacher and the principle, grabbed the bucket and puked violently into it. It was one of those throwing-up sessions that start with a massive burst of chunky liquid but then develops into groaning dry-heaves and disgusting drips of bile.

I wiped my mouth with my forearm and proceeded to finish the class. I was never asked back.

It's no wonder Asians think of us as barbarians. We weren't good ambassadors from our countries.

One night a bunch of guys and I got smashed at a bar and...well, I really don't remember. I was woken up on a park bench by a jogging ajuma (grandmother) who was holding my ringing cell phone. My girlfriend at the time was calling and when she asked where I was I looked around and said "I don't know" The sun was up and birds were chirping and Koreans were walking dogs or jogging. The last I could remember was it being night and I was at a bar. I checked my pockets and everything was where it was supposed to be, including my kidneys (although, as a rule, I don't keep those in my pockets).

I found my way home and later on learned that one guy I was with woke up on the ground of a bus shelter surrounded by Korean high shcool kids in their uniforms. Another woke up in the doorway of a hagwon (an English school) that wasn't his, and the last woke up on an inter-city greyhound-like bus to a different town. As we were playing drinking games and drinking out of the same glass we all agreed that somebody must have dropped a roofy into our drink. At least we hoped so. The alternative, that we drank THAT much, was a scary thought.

The debauched life of an ESL-teacher expat is hard to sum up. I am honestly hoping that I'll be more responsible and professional in Russia. With a bit of luck I'll be as good an entertainer...er, teacher...as I was in Korea. Knowing my luck, however, and the fact that ESL teachers are all alike, I won't.

The Summer Before I Went To Korea

The summer before I went to Korea I stayed with my ex at her parent's place in Mabou, Nova Scotia. Man, what a summer that was!

Mabou is a small town of about 500 people on the west side of Cape Breton Island and it is one of my favorite places on this planet. The food is good, the Celtic music is great and the little pub on the highway, The Red Shoe Tavern, is one of the best pubs I've ever been to (and I've been to a lot).

Mabou is home to the Rankin Family and a very lively Celtic scene. But that's not why I loved that summer so much.

The summer was great because I had so much fun! My ex and I went out of our way to be unemployed for two months, which turned out to be hard work as job opportunities kept coming our way and we had to make up excuses as to why we couldn't take them. That was pre-meditated, by the way. We had actually said to each other "Let's not work at all this summer" and laughed.

Instead of work we drank copious amounts of beer, camped on the beach, drove around Cape Breton, mowed her parent's lawn and helped her father paint a barn, went crab fishing on a boat and made many trips to Halifax. Friends came out to Nova Scotia from Ontario to visit us. We would zip around the coast on her father's 4-wheeler and hike over small mountains to pick berries on the other side. It was peaceful there, with no traffic. The trees and bushes and grass were bright green and the gravel roads would kick up little dust devils in the wind. The weather was sunny and breezy with the occasional spectacular Atlantic thunderstorm, which we would watch rolling in off the water from the large patio at the front of her parent's house.

We knew that we were going to Korea; we had signed the contracts and bought the tickets and were just waiting for the ball to get rolling.

It is similar to right now, I suppose, with the exception that I am single and in Ottawa.

But the similarities can't be overlooked. I'm off to Russia in September with the contract signed and I'm...well, okay the similarities end there. Nevertheless, six years ago I was waiting to go overseas and here I am doing it again.

Which is why I was thinking it would be such a shame if I didn't enjoy this summer.

This past weekend I went to Wiarton, on the Bruce Peninsula, to see Sam Roberts and The Tragically Hip play, and I had memories of Mabou. Very similar geography, with small towns, gravel roads, bright green all around, sunny and a cool breeze coming off Lake Huron and Georgian Bay.

Perhaps I'll go camp out in Owen Sound for the summer. I have friends there and life is cheaper and more relaxed. Of course that means ditching the lease on my apartment in Ottawa but what the hell, I'll be ditching it anyways!

Sounds good to me!

Remembering South Korea

Several things stick out in my mind when I think back to life in South Korea. One is "hectic". Korea is a nation on the move. Nothing closes. People barely sleep. There is no such thing as "rush hour" because every hour is just as insanely busy as the previous one.


Another thing that sticks out in my memory is "delicious". Korean food is absolutely fantastic, and I have had a hard time trying to find something similar here in North America. I realize why it would be impossible to have authentic Korean food in Canada, and that is because our health codes are just too strict. Still, I would love to go back and eat some kalbi and kimchi and shabu-shabu. Look them up. They're delicious!

South Korea (formally the Republic of Korea or ROK) is a republican-style democracy of just over 55 million people jammed into a mountainous peninsula about the size of Denmark. It has 3 major cities; Seoul (the capital), Daegu, and Busan. These aren't the only notable cities.

Because of the rippled geography, most of the land in the ROK is mountainous, so every valley and plateau has a city stuck in it and the result is that the entire country appears to be paved. This is true in some respects, but there are areas between Seoul and Daegu that are wooded and quite serene, and the entire area along the DMZ between North and South Korea is practically untouched by civilization! This is an ironic benefit of the 60-year standoff between the two countries.

Regarding North Korea, most South Koreans don't care too much about their Stalinist brothers to the north. They believe that the western media is alarmist and biased, and I never met a South Korean who actually believed that there would be another war on the Korean peninsula. Most laugh at the idea, and many feel that the presence of 50,000 American troops in South Korea only serves to inflame the situation.


Instead, South Koreans believe that one day North Korea will run out of economic and political options and will collapse, much like East Germany in 1991. South Koreans are somewhat against this scenario, as they know that they will be burdened with a huge amount of economic responsibility as the cost of re-unification between the two Koreas will undoubtably be born by South Korea. Even if the international community were to donate billions of dollars to bring North Korea up to speed, in the case of re-unification South Korea will be saddled with the social and economic costs of caring for millions of poor, uneducated, and starving North Koreans who will flock to centres like Seoul in search of a better life. This is the scenario most South Koreans believe will occur in the future, and they are not particulary happy about it.

At least, these were the results of my discussions with Koreans on the situation. Most Koreans are happy to talk about it and it is not a taboo subject. In fact, most Koreans are happy to talk about anything, particularly in English. Koreans come off at first as aloof and even rude if you are a stranger to them (the result of having millions of people jammed into a small space), but I found that they are approachable and open up right away. Whether on the subway, in a store, or at a bar, it was very easy to approach Koreans and say "Annyong-Hasseyo" (hello), at which point they will start asking questions and even blush a little (the girls will, anyways).

And once a Korean is friends with you, they are friends for life. Friends and family are synonomous in Korea. To be friends with someone means they are part of your family, as well, and Koreans will go to the ends of the earth to help out their friends and family. It's a culture of honour and sacrifice and is heavily based on loyalty, and the benefit for a Canadian such as myself was that even though I haven't seen my Korean friends in three years, I can still call on them whenever I want. That was a nice change from our cold and impersonal North American culture, where the individual has loose connections to friends, tighter connections to family, and very little connection with society as a whole. In fact, in North America I find myself often alone and without a safety net whereas if I were in Korea today I would have three dozen people to entertain me and catch me if I fall.





Another thing I remember about Korea was the crazy expat community. The vast majority of expats in South Korea are ESL teachers, with a few U.S. soldiers thrown into the mix. And like any ethnic minority, they all tend to band together (it's hard to critiscize other minorities in our own countries who do the same). And what do westerners in the late 20s and early 30s like to do when they are together in large groups? If you guessed "drink" give yourself a prize.

Korea seems like one big bar nestled between Japan and China. Koreans drink a lot. Visitors drink a lot. Everybody drinks a lot and I started to distrust people who said "I don't drink". And man, did we have some wild parties in Korea! Because all us expats were in the same boat, we all had a common ground for getting along, and hordes of us would permanently take over a bar and make it our 'spot'. One such place was the Wa-Bar in a Seoul suburb called Suji.




When we first took over the bar, the staff and owner spoke no English. Several years later they could speak to us in modern slang, and the owner even gave me the shirt off his back the night before I left!


One last thing I remember is that the expat community was very helpful to newbies who just landed in Korea. Every person newly in Korea arrives slightly bewildered, utterly confused, and not sure what to do next. It is a completely foreign culture, after all, and is absolutely terrifying at first! My advice is to get to know other expats right away (check out Dave's ESL Cafe forums for info on expat hangouts all over Korea). The expats will help people get oriented, befriend them, and watch them grow into confident members of the expat community.


When I first arrived I was completely dazed but thankfully other westerners who had been there awhile got me oriented. By the time I left, two years later, I was a veteran. I loved watching new people show up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and completely unsure of where they were, and over time I would watch them transition into people with their own experiences of Korea (and the ability to read the alphabet...which, for some reason, I noticed that it was mostly expat males who picked up this skill while most of the females hardly bothered trying...can't explain it). It was a strange existence, making friends with other expats from all over the English speaking world. I considered some of them to be the best friends in the world while I was there, and then I would watch them rotate out never to be heard from again. I did the same thing.

That's all I can think of right now. I'm sure I'll have other posts about Korea in the future.